Fran. Your unhappy husband
Is dead.


Vit. Oh, he 's a happy husband!
Now he owes nature nothing.


Fran. And by a vaulting engine.


Mont. An active plot; he jump'd into his grave.


Fran. What a prodigy was 't,
That from some two yards' height, a slender man
Should break his neck!


Mont. I' th' rushes!


Fran. And what's more,
Upon the instant lose all use of speech,
All vital motion, like a man had lain
Wound up three days. Now mark each circumstance.


Mont. And look upon this creature was his wife!
She comes not like a widow; she comes arm'd